Berkley
by Vorcanox
Summary: The fate of Gilneas through the eyes of one man. An ongoing RP within the World of Warcraft.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes

This story is based off the events in the worgen starting area of World of Warcraft: Cataclysm. The only thing I could possibly claim ownership over is the character of Berkley, and even so his game avatar belongs to Blizzard. Also if you do not wish to spoil yourself about the story line in the worgen starting area, you should probably not read the story just yet.

**Berkley**

By Vorcanox

Shouts drifted into my room from the square below. I set down the worn boot I had been repairing and strode over to the open window. Peering down into the dark city streets, I could make out shapes of men running around the corner of the bakery shop down the way. That's when I heard the howling.

I was still pulling on my overcoat as I was rushing out the door. A few people, apparently roused from their homes as I was, were starting to gather at the north end of the square. I noticed a few city guards, wearing the familiar Gilnean tabard and distinctive helmets. I had made a goodly number of those helmets, and I recall how tricky it was to get that bloody nosepiece in just the right position. There was a man on horseback near the center of the forming crowd. He was brandishing a torch and appeared to be directing the guards.

"Oi, Berkley! Woss all this about, then?" A dark haired man with a sweeping cloak was walking towards me. I recognized that voice. I turned to meet Renvold, relieved to see a friendly face. I felt safer with him around. The man has an uncanny ability to escape unscathed from even the most dire of situations.

"I haven't the slightest. Have you heard the howling?" My voice sounded strained, and I coughed to cover it up. Perhaps it was the haunting noise I had heard earlier. Perhaps it was the people scurrying about in the dead of night. It may have just been the cold from the mist that was slowly rolling in to the city, between the narrow alleyways and across the Merchant's Square. But I was shivering, and a knot of apprehension was forming deep in my guts.

"Aye, that I did mate. D'you think its just the mastiffs of the night watch?" We fell into a brisk pace, side by side. Walking towards the crowd, it became obvious that something was wrong. The guards were standing in a semi-circular formation around the man on horseback, their swords drawn and readied. I could almost make out what was being said by the horseman.

"Doubtful. They've never made such sounds before, I don't see why tonight would be any different," I thrust my hands deep into my pockets, hoping to hide the slight tremor my hands had decided to develop.

"I want the perimeter secured and the gates manned by two guards at all times! No one gets in, no one gets out!". The red haired fellow on the horse was none other than the Prince of Gilneas, Liam Greymane. Despite being a staunch Royal and having absolute confidence in the leadership of the Greymanes, the sight of His Royal Highness did nothing to alleviate the awful dread I felt. What was going on, that the presence of the ruling family was necessary? I shot a glance sideways to Renvold to see his reaction. Though I had never confirmed it, I always suspected that Renvold had Rebel leanings at the very least. We had always agreed to disagree upon the subject, and left it at that. I valued his friendship, and it wasn't worth it to pry into his true opinions. He kept a calm exterior, though I noticed he was paler than usual.

"You two! Listen up!" A city guard had come up behind us and began to bark orders. "We're short handed right now, and it is your duty as a Gilnean citizen to help us at this time! I need you to head over to the north gate and check on Lieutenant Walden!" Without more explanation, the guard turned and ran towards the ranks that were forming off to the left of the square. I frowned deeply and looked at Renvold. He had a mildly puzzled expression, but simply shrugged,

"Best do what he says then. 'E looked a tad harried, eh?". A grin crossed his face and he began walking in the direction of the gate. Renvold has been a good counterpoint to my sobriety, and always tries to bring levity to any situation. Unlike previous times, it did not chase away my doubts.

The street was empty. Papers were littered across the cobblestones, along with other detritus of city life. The mist had fulminated into a thick fog, and it swirled up the bases of the houses lining the walkways. The air felt heavy, as though the city itself was holding its breath. The wrought iron gate loomed into view as we neared the city entrance. My heart leapt into my throat, and a cascade of adrenaline washed down my spine.

The dark shape crumpled up in front of the gate was indeed Lieutenant Walden. I held a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from vomiting, though I could feel my guts churning and saliva pooling around my tongue. I stood back from the corpse, but Renvold cautiously crouched down and began investigating.

"Bloody Fel, Berk. These cuts 'ere, must be ten inches...what kind of beast made 'em?" He turned his face up towards me. If he had looked pale before, it was nothing compared to now. His eyes were wide with fear, and I could see a bead of sweat tracking down his brow.

A sharp scream cut through the night. Without hesitation, Renvold and I bolted back towards the Merchant's Square. As we rounded the corner, a guard was thrown violently across our path. Looking to where he had come from, our eyes were met with a horrifying scene.

Worgen. Everywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

My shirt had been hand-tailored by my Lorelai. She was a master seamstress, and her fashions were renowned throughout Gilneas. Her dresses draped the nobility of the city, and her skirts were all the rage in the border towns. My own clothing was always well cared for, and more stylish than I could have ever wanted. These were the fleeting thoughts in my mind as I looked down at the blood splashed across the fine embroidery of my tunic. A snarl brought me back into the moment, and I hastily blocked a swing from a worgen. I slammed my makeshift barrel-lid shield into its foaming muzzle before running my longsword into its midsection. The fearsome beast slumped down to the ground, gurgling its death gasp as I pulled my blade from its body.

"Aye, now that's a plan a fellow can get behind!" Renvold crowed, as he practically broke into a jig. I stared at him in disbelief. How could he be so upbeat, when we had just cut our way through a wave of worgen? I was still covered in entrails, for Light's sake! Renvold hurried over to me, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

"Didja hear that, mate? Ol' Greymane hisself did give the order to release Crowley and his chums from the prison!" and he let out a cheer. I was stunned. It was too much to take in at once. There were monsters from myth storming the city, and now the King wanted to release the most infamous rebels of the civil war? While I didn't share Renvold's enthusiasm, I wasn't voicing disappointment or anger either. I was too numbed to mount much of a response. I could imagine what a tirade Lorelai would have started. She was more of a Royalist than I, and much more opinionated about it as well. The arguments between her and Renvold were spectacular, and I could never truly tell if they were in jest or not. I love when she gets wrapped up in a heated debate, and her passionate speeches are always inspiring. Renvold grabbed my upper arm, shaking me out of my recollection.

"Hurry up, Berk! You've got your 'ead in the clouds again! How you can do that at a time like this, I'll never know," Renvold shakes his head before turning around.

"Where d'you think Captain Broderick has gone to? He's the one wit' the key to the jail." Renvold scratched his goatee thoughtfully and scanned the area. We were in the court just in front of the terrace leading to Stoneward Prison, the largest jail in Gilneas. Thick vines crept up the stone walls, growing in the crevices where the soft sandstone had weathered away. Only a few tiny windows broke the pattern of the bricks. It housed all the most dangerous criminals, as well as a good chunk of the rebels that had played key roles in the Northgate Rebellion. I narrowed my eyes and peered past the fog and the scattered guards that were gathered in front of the entrance. I could see movement within, and perhaps the flashing of steel. I broke into a trot, concerned that the guards would soon not be the only ones occupying the terrace. Renvold and I ran up the ramp leading to the jail courtyard. At the top was a man who looked to be a guard, until I noticed the extra row of badges upon his tabard.

"Civilians, eh? Is that the best I can expect?" the captain huffed. He looked down and took notice of the longsword I was sporting.

"I don't suppose there is much of a distinction now though. I hope you know how -" he was silenced as a massive black worgen fell from the sky, and crushed him into the ground. The beast tore into his throat and ripped his arm from its socket. It flung the disembodied limb to the side as it twisted around to face us. Its muzzle was drawn back in a fierce snarl, with crooked fangs protruding past its lower jaw. The twist of fur growing from its chin was slicked with the blood of the fallen captain. A low rumbling growl came forth from its chest, and it took a step towards us. Before I could react, there was a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye. A dagger planted itself nearly between the glowing yellow eyes of the monster. The worgen dropped heavily backwards, and lay twitching on the remains of the captain.

"A jolly good shot, if I do say so myself!" Renvold quickly bent over the dead worgen to retrieve his silver throwing knife. I barked out a harsh laugh, my mind still reeling with the close encounter. If I had been standing but two feet closer, I would also be on the ground...I shook my head. I could not entertain such thoughts right now. Shouts rang throughout the courtyard, and a bell began to toll. The worgen would be here in force any minute now.

"Lets get up to the tower, we must inform Captain Broderick of the King's plan," I said while pointing towards a heavy oak and iron door off to our left. Renvold nodded and finished wiping off his knife. The door swung open slowly, revealing a winding staircase minimally lit by torchlight. The stone steps were worn by the feet of the watch men that used this stairway to reach the rooftop patrol routes. We were about half way when the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting drifted down the tower.

"-and seal the right wing door! I don't want those madmen on the loose, they're as bad as the worgen!" a rough voice yelled. Steel plated boots clanged on the stone as Captain Broderick raced down the steps towards us. He paused a moment when he saw us.

"And who might you two be? I haven't time for escorting hapless citizens!" he growled. His tabard had an ugly dark stain diagonally across the Gilnean symbol, and it looked as though this left pauldron had been dented severely.

"Ol' Greymane sent us 'ere! We're to let you know that Crowley is free to go," Renvold gave a rather sarcastic salute as he delivered the news. The captain's eyes widened in surprise before his brows furrowed into a frown.

"You expect me to believe that? The city's erupted with madness, but I refuse to believe our King's lost his mind as well." Broderick shrugged his shoulders. "But if you're fel-bent on reaching the inmates, I'm too short-handed to stop you. Besides, they may have already escaped. We've been having security breaches ever since the attack began." Without any further discussion, the captain pushed past us and hurried the rest of the way down the stairwell.

We emerged on the rooftop of the jail. The sound of fighting floated upwards from the courtyard we had just vacated. There was a mingling of screams from man and beast, and the dull thud of swords meeting flesh. The roof had a walkway stretching before us. Cautiously, Renvold and I walked along the catwalk, uncertain of what awaited us around the corner up ahead. I heard men's voices, talking in hurried tones. We went around the corner to the larger terrace, and saw a handful of rough looking inmates. Their hair was long and tangled, and few of them wore shirts. One man was lying on his back, being tended by another. I hadn't recognized any of the men, but it was obvious that Renvold did. He gave a shout, then broke into a trot. When he approached the man with red hair, he saluted him with vigour.

"Sir Crowley, let me bring a bit o' good cheer to you and your boys here! Ol' Greymane has given th' word for your release!" Renvold was positively beaming. The man with the red hair clapped a hand on Renvold's shoulder.

"Greymane is right. These beasts don't give a damn about our politics. Gilneas needs to stand together." Sir Crowley had deep, fluid voice. He was taller than myself, with very broad shoulders. He had a commanding presence, the sort of countenance that savvy politicians spend years cultivating. I could understand now how he had been able to win over so many to his cause in the civil war. Renvold did not appear as impressed as I. In fact, he looked rather confused.

"Sir? That's a funny sort of statement from you, no offense. I'm sure we could stop these beasts in their tracks on our own, what with the stockpiles-" he was interrupted by a piercing howl. I turned to look at the source of the sound, and I nearly dropped my longsword. At least two dozen worgen were perched on the rooftops, surrounding us on all sides. Crowley gave a shout, and his men began to form a semi-circle around the prone man. Sweat began to run down my face, and I gripped the hilt of my sword until my knuckles were white. Why were the monsters just sitting there? What were they waiting for? A second howl cut through the night, and an enormous grey worgen stood upright on the roof across the way. He then did something that utterly baffled me: he pointed at us. With this simple, very human motion, all of the worgen leapt towards us at once.

Chaos was all around me. I could only focus on one worgen at a time, the others seething around me in a blur of black and grey. Cut downwards, thrust forwards, parry and dodge. I lost my barrel-lid shield when a worgen ripped it from my grip. The tang of blood was sharp in my nose. Driven by pure adrenaline, I swung my sword like a man possessed. I must have felled at least five of the monsters before a terrible pain shot through my shoulder. I roared in pain and surprise, and swung the hilt of the sword backwards over my shoulder. The butt of the sword connected the with skull of a worgen, stunning it. I swung around to face it, and ran it through with my blade. It kept snarling next to my face, and I dodged its paw as it swung at my head. I kicked it to the ground, pulling my sword free as I did. I cried out in pain, and dropped my sword as I grasped my wounded shoulder. I looked at the palm of my hand. It was wet, and coated with dark red blood. I felt dizzy, and the chaotic fight around me began to spin. I stumbled sideways, and the world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

I awoke to a splitting headache. My shoulder felt as though it were on fire. It was dark, and for an apparent eternity all I was aware of was agony. Slowly the world came into focus, and the blurry shadow hovering over me coalesced into the worried face of Renvold.

"Berk! You tough ol' bastard! I had a feelin' you'd pull through!" his face broke into a wide grin, but his complexion was still white as a bedsheet. He put his hand under my good shoulder.

"Time to get yer lazy bones up, I'm 'fraid we ain't got the time for recuperatin'" Renvold said in a shaky voice, and he helped me sit up. I nearly vomited as a wave of pain washed over me. I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, gaining my composure.

"How did we fare? That last attack was..." I trailed off, lost for words. Surprisingly, Renvold chuckled and shook his head.

"Ya should've seen 'im, Berk! Crowley was bloody brilliant, he fought off at least ten at a time using nothing but his bare fists! Those furry sons o' bitches didn' know what hit 'em!" The spark in Renvold's eye returned as he talked about his hero. "Just watching him give 'em the what-for made me fight harder than I ever have before!". He continued describing the apparently epic battle that had occurred, and I wondered if we had even been in the same fight. All I could recall was fear and madness, completely bereft of glory. I struggled to my feet, trying in vain to prevent any movement in my shoulder. The sharp headache had settled to a dull throbbing, thankfully. I slowly turned my head to look at the damage done to my shoulder. It was hard to tell where my shredded shirt ended, and my shredded flesh began. Fighting back a wave of nausea, I asked Renvold what the plan was.

"Well, we was chattin' a wee bit an' we decided to head over to Josiah's place. We have a few supplies to pick up there," Renvold gave me an obvious wink. I vaguely recalled mention of stockpiles from earlier. That information, along with the familiarity Renvold had with Crowley and his lackeys, was certainly painting Renvold as more than just a rebel sympathizer. If it were any other time, I would most likely find myself very upset with my friend. However, now was not the time for conflict along ideological lines. King Greymane was correct on this matter. At least the rebels were human, which was more than could be said of our new enemies.

Crowley and his men accompanied us down to the courtyard. The fighting had stopped, and there were bodies of slain guards and worgen haphazardly strewn across the paving stones. It was obvious that the Gilnean guards had taken heavy casualties. The rebels leading us onwards seemed almost nonchalant about the carnage; I assume they are used to the sights and smells of battle from the civil war. Perhaps they don't care because the fallen are all royalists...I was drawn from my train of thought when our group halted in the courtyard. Renvold and Tobias engaged in conversation, speaking with low voices. I thought about joining them, but my exhaustion was setting in. Instead I leaned heavily against a short stone fence, and slid to the ground carefully. I closed my eyes, the cool stones alleviating some of the burning in my shoulder. I caught a few snippets of conversation.

"-no, no, that storehouse was emptied a few months ago to help with the Blackwald encampment..." the man named Tobias shook his head.

"We'll head over to Josiah Avery's place, unless tha one's been tapped out too?" Renvold drew his face into a smirk. Tobias didn't smile back. Renvold coughed lightly, "Ahem, well, then. I'll be takin' Berk wit' me, reckon he needs constant supervising."

"He's a royal, ain't he? Won't be causing trouble, will he?" a ratty looking inmate jerked his thumb in my direction. Renvold chuckled.

"Wit' that gaping 'ole on his shoulder there? What's he gonna do, bleed all over the supplies?"

The inmate remained stoic, casting a stony glance my way. Renvold and I split from the group shortly thereafter, as there were apparently other storehouses that needed to be checked on. I was having trouble focusing on the details of what was going on. The pain from my wound, combined with the constant headache, was taking its toll on me. It felt as though a fog had settled upon my mind, reminiscent of the heavy mist choking the bases of the houses. Waves of pain periodically washed over me, yet I didn't think they were coming solely from my shoulder. I must have sustained more injuries that weren't as obvious. If Lorelai were here, she'd insist that I rest first. She'd probably even try to find me a priest to take a look at my wounds. A dark thought crossed my mind; what if there were worgen all across the countryside? They must have come from somewhere, and with such huge numbers it wasn't inconceivable that there were more, spreading like a violent tidal wave of destruction across Gilneas. What if she wasn't safe? My throat seized up, and I fought back tears at the thought of losing my Lorelai. A slight anger began to rise up the more I thought about my impotence to save the woman and the city that I love. I mentally shook myself. I must be exhausted, my emotions are usually not as raw and near the surface.

"Are ya even listenin', Berk?" Renvold's voice sounded impatient. I hadn't even realized he was talking.

"I'm sorry, Renvold. It's just this headache, and my shoulder's burning up terribly. What were you saying?"

Renvold's eyes widened and his frown softened. "I was jus' nattering on about tactics, and was lookin' for some input on where we should send the artillery once we pick it up from Josiah -"

"Artillery?" I yelled, much louder than I intended to. "By the Light, Renvold, what sort of operation did the rebels have going on here? This stinks of treasonous acts, it does!" I panted, and fought to control the anger that had welled up. Renvold looked as shocked as I felt. I knew they were keeping something important here, why was I becoming so upset by it?

"Well, Berk," Renvold said carefully, "regardless of why th' artillery is 'ere, it'll be put to good use. Surely you're grateful for the extra firepower, to use against the worgen?". I nodded silently, afraid of what I would say if I opened my mouth. We continued on in silence, though the tension between us was palpable. The alley ways were eerily empty, and the quiet was deafening after the ordeals we had been through. That must be why I was so angry with Renvold; I was simply misdirecting all the fear and frustration of the past few hours. I was searching for the words to apologize for my outburst when we arrived at Josiah's house. There were no lights in the windows, and the cellar door was thrown open. I looked over at Renvold. He was frowning deeply, and slowly pulled out his throwing dagger.

"Tha' doesn't quite look right, now does it?" he stepped up to the cellar cautiously, casting sideways glances. I followed behind him, glancing around in a similar suspicious fashion. I felt utterly helpless, injured and weaponless. We descended the rickety cellar stairs, each step jarring my shoulder just enough to shoot pain down my arm. Renvold paused at the bottom, peering into the dusty darkness. I could see crates stacked in the corner, and several rifles were mounted on the wall.

"Josiah? Ya in here, mate?" Renvold called out. A small whimpering noise came from the far corner. Renvold dashed over, neatly jumping over the remains of a smashed crate. "Josiah! Are ya all righ'?" I started to follow, when I heard Josiah cry out.

"No! Stay away from me!" He sounded crazed, his voice shaking and high pitched. "I can't fight it!" Renvold looked back at me. I shook my head slightly, unsure what he could be talking about. Renvold faced towards Josiah again.

"Can't fight what, mate? Ain't nobody here but us..."

Josiah doubled over, apparently in great pain. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with my face?" With a cry, he fell to his knees. His hands covered his face, and his red hair fell forwards. Renvold ignored Josiah's pleading, and knelt down in front of the man.

"'Ere, lemme take a look at it mate -" Renvold reached out his hand, but stopped short when Josiah let out a deep, rumbling growl. I could feel my throat seize up with fear, and adrenaline rushed into my limbs. That growl sounded awfully familiar. Before I could shout a warning, Josiah exploded forwards, tackling Renvold to the ground. A gunshot went off just behind me. I nearly fainted, but fear helped me cling to consciousness. The limp body of a worgen was lying on top of Renvold, who was looking just as terrified as I was. I whirled around and found myself nearly face to face with a lovely young lady sporting a massive double barrel shotgun.

"He became one of them...didn't he?" the lady said, with a steely look on her face. I simply gaped at her. The implications of this...without answering her, I turned to go help Renvold. He was struggling to push the large worgen off of himself. Using my good arm, I helped roll the corpse over. I was stunned. The worgen was wearing the same clothing Josiah had been wearing, albeit more torn up and covered in blood from the bullet wound. I caught Renvold's eye, and we shared a moment of mutual terror.

"It bit me, Berk! The bloody thing bit me!"


End file.
